


Broken Roads

by SailorSol



Category: The King's Blades - Dave Duncan
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Gen, Mistaken Identity, On the Run, Pretentious Teens, Street Rats, mild AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-26
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living on the streets wasn't the easiest life, but it wasn't the worst one. A brief run-in with Deputy Commander Snake, Commander Durendal, and a runaway girl from the palace is about to change everything though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of years ago, figured I'd import it over from ff.n. The King's Blades are quite possibly my most favorite fantasy series ever. I wrote this story in about two days; previously, anything I wrote had been short one-shots. But it quickly became one of the stories of which I'm most proud.
> 
> So, here it is, in six parts and one epilogue. Most of the characters belong to Dave Duncan.

The other boys always thought he was crazy, but he'd made a habit of scamming Blades. He had an incredible success rate, too-probably because the Blades thought no one would be stupid enough to ever actually try and scam them, especially not the scrawny, dirty kid with the big, blue eyes and too-long blond hair.

By rights, at almost-fifteen, he could have had a job doing real work, but he barely passed for twelve most of the time, and whenever he'd tried to hire on somewhere, they never took him seriously.

And it wasn't as if the Blades couldn't afford it-they had a decent salary, and they lived in the palace; what did they need the money for, anyway? It's not like they had to really _work_ most of the time, either. Just stand around and look menacing.

The others never could understand his dislike for the Blades, either. Some of the younger boys talked of running off to Ironhall. Not that any of them ever would; Starkmoor was a long way from Grandon, and they barely had enough food to survive day to day here in the city. But for the others, it was a pleasant enough fantasy, and when they were sitting around in the early evening with nothing else to do, they'd pick up sticks and play at Blades and Bad Guys.

He was always a Bad Guy, and he always won.

That was something else the others never understood about him. When he did play with them, which wasn't often, he would wallop them all into the ground. He was fast, and he didn't just wave the sticks around wildly like the littler boys did. He would block and jab and dance away from the flailing attempts to "kill" him.

Despite his peculiarities, the other boys were in awe of him, and there wasn't any question that he was the leader of their group. He always made sure there was enough food, and that if it was raining they had someplace to stay dry, and if it was cold at night, there were blankets to curl up under.

All in all, it wasn't the worst life to be living. But even he knew it couldn't last forever.

* * *

"Hey Cap," a dark-haired boy called, flopping down on the ground next to his older friend.

"Whatta ya want, Raz? Can't you see I'm busy?" the boy called Cap asked, shoving the younger boy a little.

"You're moping, Cap. And Ratter said he saw a Blade headed toward the market. Thought you'd want to know," Raz replied. Cap sighed, getting up from his favorite corner in the abandoned house they'd taken over the week before.

"You're in charge until I get back. Keep 'em from doing anything too stupid," Cap told Raz. The younger boy grinned and slid into Cap's spot on the floor, trying to look self-important.

"I'm in charge!" he yelled through the room as Cap made his way out the back door, headed towards the market. They had some food in the house, but they would need more if everyone was going to be fed in the morning, and if he could snatch the Blade's coin purse at the same time, all the better.

He caught sight of his target looking at trinkets and baubles. He didn't recognize him, which was a good thing; Cap made it a point to never con the same Blade twice. The man was thin, with dark hair and a thin mustache that made him look like someone had taken a piece of charcoal and drawn it on. Cap thought it looked stupid, but it was in style right now, as were the outrageous clothes the man was wearing; the only real indication that he was a Blade was the gleaming cat's-eye sword at his waist.

But if the man could afford the clothes and the baubles he was looking at, he could certainly afford to donate his money to a good cause, such as a group of hungry boys with no home or family to call their own. It almost felt unfair to take advantage of a Blade, but it was just too easy; and besides, they owed him.

The Blade continued on his way through the market, stopping to sniff the colognes that barely covered up the stink of animal droppings. He tried on a ridiculous looking hat with a feather a foot or so long that dangled down ridiculously, then headed towards the food carts; that was Cap's cue.

He rubbed at his eyes to make it look as if he'd been crying, hunched his shoulders down with the almost-empty coin purse clutched tightly in hand, and went to stand in front of a cart looking pathetic and miserable. Staring longingly at the loaves of fresh bread (he'd not eaten since yesterday so the others would have enough, so it wasn't difficult), he sniffed a few times, loud enough for the Blade to hear.

The vendor was giving him the stink-eye, so he looked at him hopefully.

"How much for a loaf, sir?" His voice squeaked, but he tried not to flinch; it only helped his plan.

"Three silvers," the vendor replied. He'd seen the Blade watching him, and let his face fall, not letting himself over-act.

"Oh," he said softly, dumping the handful of coppers into his palm. "How much can I get for four coppers?" he asked. The vendor scowled.

"A crust of yesterday's bread," was the curt reply. He winced, not even having to act.

"All I've got is four coppers, sir, and my ma is sick and my little sister May hasn't eaten since yesterday," he said, coaxing a tear to slip out. The vendor, who obviously hadn't noticed the Blade, scowled.

"No charity," he snapped. "Now run off before you scare away customers." The Blade stepped closer; Cap gave a mental chuckle.

"Three silvers, you said?" the Blade asked the vendor, who looked startled at this new inquiry. He blustered for a moment, caught sight of the sword, and forced a smile.

"Two for you, good sir," the vendor replied. Cap saw the Blade scowl, but pull open his coin purse. He withdrew four silver coins.

"Two loaves, then," the Blade said, handing over the coins and taking two of the larger, fresher loaves of bread. Cap gave the Blade a desperate, hopeful look, but didn't think he managed the amount of awe he should have; no matter, the Blade was handing him the loaves. "Here you go, lad."

Cap grinned brightly in success. In a moment of inspiration, he threw his arms around the Blade, thanking him profusely for his generosity. While the man stood rather awkwardly as the dirty boy hugged him, Cap helped himself to the coins in the Blade's purse.

"Thank you again!" he said, and before he could be caught, darted off into the crowd and back towards the eight boys he took care of. Once clear of the market, he couldn't help but smile. "Fool," he said to the absent Blade.

Another day's good work.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Raz got sick, and Cap was worried. He always worried when someone was sick, but especially with Raz, who was the first boy he'd found six months ago when he arrived in Grandon. They'd had a scuffle when Cap had tried to nab the same loaf of bread that Raz had been after, and even though Cap had at least three years on Raz, they were the same size. It was only by virtue of having more experience that Cap had won, but he had split the prize with the younger boy, and they'd been friends since.

After that, they'd found Scoot picking through garbage cans and taken the eight year old into their group. It wasn't long before three turned into nine. Scoot was still the youngest, and there were a few other boys who drifted in and out, but their main group stuck together as much as possible.

"He gonna be okay, Cap?" Scoot asked, dabbing the wet cloth on Raz's head just like Cap had told him to.

"I dunno, Scoot. He's real sick. You're doing a good job," Cap said, hoping to encourage the younger boy and not worry him. He went to the little box they kept their food in and sighed. It was empty, the same as it had been the night before. He had planned on going out earlier that morning, but when Raz had started puking, he had stayed. He couldn't put it off any longer.

"Crumbs, you're in charge," Cap told a red-haired boy. He was fourteen, and had been living-and surviving- on the streets since he was eleven. "Scoot, keep doing what you're doing," he said. "I'll be back with some more food soon."

He headed towards the river, away from where he usually worked. There was a small shop that he always went to when they had the money to buy food, and the lady who owned it had taken a liking to him, saying that he reminded her of her son who'd died years ago. She always slipped him a piece of fresh fruit with whatever he bought.

The wind was blowing through the streets, and he shivered in the cold. It was Tenthmoon, he realized, which meant he'd be fifteen soon. He'd have to try again to get a job, maybe down at the docks; hopefully he'd find one before winter, else they'd probably all end up freezing to death.

The shelter of the shop was a welcome relief, and he counted the coins in his hand quickly before carefully going through what he could and couldn't afford to buy right now. He wanted some vegetables and maybe some meat to make a soup for them all, and it was probably the best thing for Raz to be eating.

He brought his purchases up to the counter, and when old Madam Stone saw him, she smiled warmly. "Well look what the cat dragged in. I'd wondered when you'd be stopping by, Robbie." Cap smiled; she always called him Robbie, after her son.

"We've been a bit hard off, ma'am, but Pa got himself a new job so's we got money again," Cap lied easily.

"You're such a good boy for going shopping for your ma. She's right lucky to have a lad like you," Madam Stone said, adding two apples to the other groceries. Cap smiled and handed her his coins.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'd best be off so the soup'll be ready for when Pa gets home. An' I'm sure Ellie will appreciate the apples," he said, scooping the food up into his arms. He felt bad, sometimes, for lying to Madam Stone; she was always so nice to him. But that was why he always bought from her, and made sure none of the other street boys in the city stole from her.

He headed back out into the cold, food clutched close. He was almost home when he realized he was being followed. A quick glance behind told him it was the Blade from a few days ago; the man was tricky, sticking to shadows and stopping to talk to passers-by. Cap debated whether he should head inside or not, but his worry for Raz overrode his concerns about some stupid Blade knowing where they lived. And maybe it was just a coincidence, anyway.

Just to be safe, he darted down an alley quickly, doubled back a few blocks, then made his way to the back door of their house instead. When he checked behind him, he didn't see any sign of the Blade. He pushed it out of his mind, and set about cooking up the soup and making sure Raz hadn't gotten any worse.

It was two more days before Raz was better. Luckily none of the other boys got sick, and Cap had started planning a grab-and-go mission. It was the easiest plan; two or three of the boys would get in a scuffle and cause a distraction while the others would grab what they could and run.

He'd had to re-evaluate his opinion of the dark-haired Blade; the man had been hanging around out in the street, keeping an eye out for the boy who had stolen from him. Cap had become more creative in getting out of the house, but he hadn't been able to go out as much as he usually preferred. He just hoped the man wouldn't be hanging around when they all tried to get back in after.

The day he'd chosen dawned bright and clear, and he took it as a good sign. There would be a lot of vendors out, and a lot of people going to the market, which meant more distractions. Raz would be the lookout, since he still wasn't feeling completely better; the older boys like Crumbs and Monty would cause the distraction, and the others would go for whatever they could get.

They headed towards the market in groups of two and three; four total would be causing the distraction, leaving four to grab and one as the lookout for the yeomen. They'd done this once before with great success, and Cap was sure they'd thought of everything this time through, unlike last time when Pete had been caught and sent off to an orphanage because the yeomen had shown up without warning.

Everyone was poised and ready as the scuffle started in the center square. The shouting had started, and more boys had joined the fray, just as Cap had predicted they would. Adults had joined in to try and break up the fighting, and vendors turned their attention away from their wares just long enough for four sneaky boys to go unnoticed.

A sharp whistle broke through the clamor; that was Raz's signal, and another reason Cap had chosen him as lookout. He hesitated long enough to make sure his boys had gotten clear, then turned to dart into an alley.

He ran straight into a solid wall of man, dropping the food he'd grabbed on the ground. He took one look at the man and swore; it was the Blade he'd scammed. Faster than Cap had expected, and with considerably more strength, the Blade grabbed onto him.

"What an interesting catch I've made," the Blade said cheerfully, dragging Cap along back out into the square. "I'm sure the yeomen would enjoy having a talk with you."

Cap twisted, trying to break free of the man's grip; when that didn't work, he bit down hard, but the Blade barely loosened his hold. Making a split-second decision, he kicked the Blade where no man should ever kick another. It worked, and Cap broke free. He turned to run again, only to find himself caught once again by someone else.

"Getting beaten up by scrawny kids, now, Snake?" the new man asked the first, who was still crumpled on the ground in pain. "Come now, brother, you'll ruin the reputation of the entire Order if you keep this up."

"Shove off, Durendal," Snake replied through grit teeth. Hearing the name, Cap ceased his struggling; he was so screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

Cap had almost hoped they'd hand him over to the yeomen; they'd have been easier to get away from. But the two Blades had led him towards the palace, instead, and Cap knew things were only going to get worse. He wasn't going to just get sent off to an orphanage like Pete had; he'd stolen from a Blade, and he'd been caught. And in less than a week, he'd be fifteen, which meant he was more than old enough to be tried-and hanged-as an adult. He'd been down this path before, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

Cap had never been inside the palace, and he couldn't help but be a little awed by it. For almost a year, he'd thought that this could be his, some day, but he'd grown up pretty quickly and realized it had just been a stupid dream. They led him through twisting corridors and past yeomen and Blades alike, getting strange looks from grandly dressed men and women wondering what this dirty child was doing defiling their hallways.

They ended in an office, the door shutting ominously behind them. Snake stood leaning against the wood as Durendal took a seat behind the desk. Cap sat defiantly, not waiting for an invitation.

"So you're the boy who managed to con my deputy commander, are you? What's your name, lad?" Cap couldn't help but stare for a moment; Durendal sounded _amused_ , which was a far cry from the anger he'd expected. He quickly schooled his features into a scowl.

"The name's Cap. What's it to you?" he asked.

"Cap?" Snake asked from behind him; he twisted to see the other man, uncomfortable having him out of his line of sight.

"Yeah. Cap. Short for Captain," he replied. "Got a problem with that?"

"Okay, Cap. Would you like something to eat? Drink, maybe?" Durendal offered. He'd already stood and poured a glass of water from a pitcher, holding it out for Cap to take; he took it suspiciously, but didn't drink.

"What do you want from me?"

"How old are you, Cap?" Durendal asked, sitting down once more; he looked perfectly at ease, and Cap couldn't read a single expression on his face.

"I'll be fifteen next week," he replied, sitting up straighter in an attempt to look closer to his age.

"How long have you been living on your own?" Durendal asked. Cap considered the question for a moment.

"Six months in Grandon." A look passed from Durendal towards Snake, but Cap couldn't tell what it meant.

"And what did you do before that?"

"Traveled here and there. Had a lute, but it got stolen from me and I almost got killed because of it before I got away. Figured it wasn't worth the trouble any more." It was an easy lie, with just enough truth, but he was still angry; the lute had been _his_ , like nothing else ever had.

"You're clever, Cap. Snake's not usually taken in by things like you pulled on him. It was rather impressive, really," Durendal commented, trying to sound off-hand. Cap scowled.

"Yeah, so what? You drag me here just to congratulate me on doing a good job of ripping you off? If that's all, I'll just be going now," he said, standing up and taking a step towards the door. Snake hadn't moved.

"Have you ever considered doing anything else with your life, Cap? Other than stealing to help those boys you live with?" Damn; he'd hoped they didn't know about the others. This wasn't turning out to be his day. Cap turned to face Durendal, letting his anger free.

"You think I haven't tried to get a job? You think it's fun going days on end without food because we can't afford anything and no one will help us out? What the hell do you know about my life? You're the great Sir Durendal, the king's precious little pet, Blade of Blades, and let me guess, you're going to offer me a chance to go to Ironhall, aren't you? A chance to be _just like you_ ," he sneered. "Well, no thanks. Some of us plan on _working_ for a living." He finished his rant and turned back towards the door, glaring at Snake.

The dark-haired Blade looked shocked. He'd probably never seen anyone talk to Durendal like that; a few months ago, Cap never thought he, of all people, would talk to Durendal like that. But he was angry, and he was worried, and he just wanted to go home to his friends and make sure no one else had been caught.

"Most boys your age would jump at the chance to go to Ironhall," Snake said after finally getting over his shock.

"Yeah, well, most boys my age are idiots who don't know what's good for them. Some of us are smart enough to realize that Blades are just a bunch of thieves and liars," Cap snapped in return.

"You've got two choices at this point, Cap," Durendal said. He turned back to face him again. "Either you accept the offer to go to Ironhall, and receive a full royal pardon upon binding, or you get charged now with theft. Your choice."

"Fine. Go ahead and take me ba-take me there," Cap said with a scowl. "You can't make me stay, and you can't charge me with anything if you can't find me."

Durendal never had the chance to respond; there was a knock at the door. Maybe Snake had a moment of complete idiocy, or maybe he thought that Cap couldn't move as fast as he could, or that he wouldn't think to make an escape, but Sir Snake, Deputy Commander of the Royal Guard made the mistake of opening the door.

That was all it took for Cap. He grabbed the glass of water he hadn't drank and tossed it in Durendal's face and darted through the half-open door. He ignored the shouting and dodged the attempts to grab hold of him, sprinting down the hall of the palace. He didn't know where he was going, except away from the people trying to catch him.

He ended up in a courtyard, and could see rooftops over the wall. There was a tree alongside, and he ran up to it, pulling himself up into the foliage with ease. He rested for a moment to catch his breath, alone at last.

"Who're you?" a female voice asked from above him. Apparently not so alone after all, he swore.

* * *

"That's not very polite, you know," the voice scorned. Cap climbed further up into the tree until he was on level with the girl. She wasn't what he had expected; her dark hair was pulled back tightly, and she was wearing boy's clothes, a sack slung over one shoulder. She was probably the same age as him, but if they were on the ground, she would likely be taller than him.

"Wasn't trying to be polite," Cap replied, giving her one last look before continuing to climb further up until he was on level with the top of the wall. He could see people coming into the courtyard through the leaves, which meant he didn't have much time before he was found.

"They're looking for you, aren't they?" the girl asked, pulling herself up behind him. "What did you do?"

"None of your business. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to not get caught here," he snapped. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"You're rude. The least you could do is tell me your name. I should shout down to them right now and tell them you're here."

"Are all girls as stupid as you, or are you just an exception?" he asked with a scowl that she returned.

"I am not stupid!" she half-shrieked. He put his hand over her mouth quickly.

"Do you _want_ to be caught, you idiot? If I'm not mistaken, you're trying to sneak away too, and if you tell them I'm here, they'll find you too. So shut your mouth and I won't tell them _you're_ up in this tree," he threatened. He moved his hand away, and she didn't shout, looking a bit worried. He ignored her and climbed back up, sliding his way out onto the wall.

He didn't realize she was following him until he had jumped across to the rooftop of a house, and she landed with a thud next to him. "What are you doing?" he asked her angrily.

"Following you, of course," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well stop. I don't need any stupid, tag-along girls," he said. Before he knew what happened, she'd shoved him to the ground and pinned him there with a knee to his chest.

"Don't you dare call me a stupid, tag-along girl! Do you know who I am?" she asked angrily, pressing her knee down painfully.

"Should I?" he snarled, trying to get out from underneath her. She fell back, startled.

"You don't know who I am?" she asked softly, looking suddenly very vulnerable again. He thought she might cry, which was annoying; he didn't have time for crying girls any more than he had time for tag-along girls.

"I don't care who you are. You can't follow me," he snapped, picking himself up quickly. He was right; she started crying. He had to admit she wasn't overly dramatic about it; there wasn't any sobbing or screaming or hysteria. Just a few tears that she scrubbed away angrily, standing up herself. He had been right to think she would be taller than him.

"What do you know, anyway? You're just a stupid boy. I wouldn't want to follow you even if I had nowhere else to go!" she shouted and started stomping off across the roof. Cap couldn't help but feel guilty. She obviously didn't have anywhere else to go, so how was she any different than the boys he'd taken in, except that she was a girl and she'd been running away from the palace? He sighed.

"I'm sorry," he called out to her. She stopped, her shoulders shaking a little, but he wasn't sure if it was from tears or anger. "Look, are you coming, or not?" he asked. She turned around, beaming, and he realized he'd been had. It was too late to take back the offer now, though.

"Where are we going?" she asked brightly, coming back to his side. "I'm Dian, by the way."

"You can call me Cap," he replied. "And we're going to make sure none of my friends got caught."

"Caught? Were they in the palace too? Why were the Blades chasing you, anyway? Are you a thief?" Dian asked in rapid fire. Cap scowled at her.

"You keep asking a bunch of stupid questions, and I won't bring you with me. And no, they weren't in the palace. The Blades were chasing me probably because I stole from one of them and threw water at another one of them, and so I guess that answers your question about me being a thief," Cap said, leading them along a line of rooftops until they could find a way down to ground level. "What were you doing hiding in that tree, anyway?" he asked, hoping it would keep her from asking questions of him for at least a little while.

"I was running away," she said haughtily, tipping her head up in the way that Scoot always did when he was trying to seem imposing and important.

"Why'd you do a stupid thing like that?"

"You call me stupid one more time and I'll hit you so hard you'll be purple for a month," she threatened; he believed her. "I hate the palace, that's why I was running away. No one wants me there, and I don't want to be there, and my father hates me because I'm a girl, and they don't let me see my brother, and I don't even get to be sad that my step-mother died, but I loved her too and my own mother killed herself and was a terrible mother anyway!" Cap stopped and stared as Dian went into a hysterical rant. She was crying again, but she still looked more angry than sad, and if what she said was true, then Cap could understand why.

"I'm sorry," he offered, not knowing what else to say. She breathed deeply a few times, getting herself under control.

"Don't be. It's not your fault they're all stupid." She smiled at him again. "But it's okay, because you're my friend now." He felt like he'd just been backed into a corner and couldn't help but stare at this girl a little fearfully.

What had he gotten himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

He spent the next three days asking himself that same question. No one else had managed to get caught, and even without Cap's food, they had enough for at least a little while. Unfortunately, they had to abandon their hiding place. Cap moved them down by the river, in an empty shipping warehouse that Dian crinkled her nose at.

Dian. The girl was going to be the death of him. The boys had been suspicious at first, but when they saw how she pushed Cap around, they were won over. She mothered Scoot, and Raz and Crumbs took it in turns to flirt with her outrageously. She took it all in gleefully, lording over the boys like she was a queen and this her private domain.

And now she was playing Blades with the boys, and doing rather well for herself. It wasn't just that the boys were afraid of going against a girl, either. After she'd proven she could keep up, none of them had held back any more, and she still managed to beat them most times.

She frustrated Cap to no end. One minute she would be joking around with the rest of them, and the next she would be going off on some tangent about something or other, throwing around big words and fancy talk that left most of them scratching their heads in confusion. She had spent most of the first day being disgusted by the dirty conditions, and complained about being hungry for the better part of the second. Cap wanted to slap her, but he had better manners than that, and had snapped at her, instead, which had sent her into another crying fit.

Sometime late that afternoon, she had come to him, apologizing and asking if there was anything she could do to help. He was wary about using a girl, because things would be a lot worse if she were to get caught. She seemed equally angry and scared by the idea of being caught, and had finally settled on taking the small dagger they had and cutting her hair off at her chin, offering it to Cap to sell for money.

With the short hair and the now-dirty trousers and shirt she wore, Dian could almost have passed as just another one of the boys. For some reason, this bothered Cap more than he could tell. Dian was a mystery; well-spoken, well-educated, and she obviously was used to a life of rich luxury. But she fit in well with the rag-tag group, and once she realized how things worked, she did what she could to help.

Still, Cap had a bad feeling about her.

"I'm going out," he announced. They barely paid any attention to him as they chased one another around shouting death threats and warnings. He sighed, leaving them to their fun.

It had gotten cold outside, but the sky was bright blue, and it was nice to walk along the river, even if it smelled of rotting fish and sewage. It ensured that he was alone, which he hadn't been in a long time, and he needed to clear his head.

Getting caught by Snake and Durendal had been a disaster. He laughed out loud, remembering their offer to bring him to Ironhall. Even if he _wanted_ to go back, he couldn't. He'd been kicked out, and the door slammed metaphorically behind him. He had wasted a year of his life out there on the moor, and every day he wished he hadn't ever taken Sir Vincent's offer in the first place. He could have still had his lute, still been traveling wherever he wanted, had a reliable way to earn money and food.

He kicked at a rock angrily, watching it skitter along the ground before plunking into the water. "That's not very nice. What did the rock ever do to you?" He spun, startled; Dian was trailing behind him.

"Do you insist on having to follow me everywhere?" he asked angrily. He wasn't in a good mood, and she was one of the main causes of that.

"I just thought you might want some company," she said, sounding a little timid. Cap didn't know if all girls were like this, or if Dian was the only one who could go from domineering and just plain _frightening_ to timid and scared in the blink of an eye. Maybe one day when he was feeling bold, he would ask her.

"I came out here to be alone. I need to think, and you were all being too loud," he replied, his tone softer this time. It wasn't entirely her fault, after all, and it wasn't really fair taking it out on her.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked, obviously not taking the hint to leave.

"Boy things," he snapped back, anger getting the better of him again. He watched her face flush red, before her eyes widened in fright, and before he could turn to see what had startled her, she had tackled him to the ground.

"Are you crazy? Get off me!" he shouted at her, struggling to try and flip them over. Her larger size gave her the advantage, and he could feel her fingernails digging into his forearm as she hissed a warning into his ear.

"Keep fighting or they'll notice us!" she whispered desperately, letting him struggle as she pretended to punch him in the sides. She sounded so frightened, but there had been such command in her voice that Cap simply did as he was told, and they continued to scuffle in the dirt while a group of yeomen passed by them, barely paying them any heed.

Dian rolled off of him, panting and flushed, looking around to make sure the men-at-arms were gone. She stood, brushing herself off, and held out a hand for Cap to take. He glared at it.

"You really are crazy, aren't you?" he asked, getting up without her help. She'd torn his shirt, and it was the only one he had.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want them to notice me," she said, true contrition in her tone.

"Why would the yeomen care? You look like a boy, anyways," he replied, paying more attention to the tear in the cloth; he thought maybe he would be able to salvage it.

"Someone probably sent them to look for me, and even if I do look like a boy, not everyone is as stupid as you are and some people know who I am!" She was starting to yell.

"If you keep yelling, they'll come back to see what's going on. And if you're so important, who are you then? Can't say I've ever heard of anyone important by the name of Dian," he sneered. Even if she had been pretending to hit him, he would have a few bruises from this. Dian looked frightened and hesitant again.

"My dad's a politician. An important one. He'd send someone to find me. If he even noticed I was missing..." she trailed off softly.

"Oh, that's just great," he snarled. "So now the yeomen are looking for you and the Blades are looking for me. Did you even think at all when you decided to run away from your perfect little life, Dian? If we get caught, it's not just you and me who get in trouble. They'll send the others off to an orphanage, at best!"

She was crying again, but he couldn't bring himself to care this time. He knew she had been bad news, and now she was putting them all at risk. Cap at least had practice in sneaking and getting away from people who wanted to catch him. Dian was just a dead weight.

"No one wanted me there!" she shouted in return. "No one cared about me any more, now that my brother was born! At least here I can help!"

"What, help us all get caught? You're just a stupid girl!" he shouted back. She glared at him, then shoved him hard to the ground.

"I hate you and I hope you get caught and sent to the worst place in the world!" she yelled before running off, away from their hiding place.

"I hate you too!" he called at her retreating back. "Good riddance," he said, picking himself up off the ground once more.

* * *

He waited an entire day before going to sell Dian's hair. The girl hadn't come back, and after the initial period of worry, the other boys had shrugged their shoulders and moved on with their lives. It was how things worked on the streets; sometimes people stayed, and sometimes people didn't, and it never did any good to get overly attached. Besides, Cap was in a better mood without the girl around.

He ended up getting a good chunk of money for the long, dark hair. A small part of him felt bad for using it, even though she was gone, but she had given it to them freely, and hadn't asked for it back before leaving. Anyway, she was probably already back at the palace taking a hot bath and being fed ridiculous amounts of food and being smothered by a father who loved her. She was just a stupid girl who loved hysterics.

He scowled as the wind picked up; he hadn't fixed the tear in his shirt yet. He would have to do that after he got back to their hideout because it was starting to look like rain. If it wasn't so cold out, they could have all gone out and splashed in the puddles and had some fun, but it was late enough in the year that it was just as likely to snow as it was to rain, which meant being outside and getting wet would wind up getting them all sick.

The boys were all going to get restless once the weather got colder. It would be harder to get food, and harder to spend time outside. Cap needed to think of something to do with them, else they would start causing the kind of trouble that would get them hanged instead of given a second chance.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a cry for help; it sounded like a girl, and despite all the problems he'd had lately caused by girls (one in particular), he couldn't just ignore it. He made sure his coin purse was tucked away safely, then followed the sounds of fighting. He turned the corner to see the backs of four big brutes, but he couldn't see the girl trapped in the corner.

He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could, then picked up another to throw again. The two men he had hit turned around to face this new threat, and he had to fight down the urge to run; they were huge and could probably crush him with their pinkie finger. But when they moved, he also caught a glimpse of the girl they had cornered, and couldn't help but feel a swell of irritation.

It was Dian, and she looked absolutely terrified.

He looked around for anything else to use as a weapon, settling on the broken leg of a chair that someone had discarded. "Why don't you come pick on someone who can fight back?" he taunted the men. Two kept Dian trapped, while the other two advanced on Cap; one was brandishing a club, and the other a dagger. He gulped.

"You wanna join the fun, boy?" the one with the club asked, leering at Cap in a way he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"Leave the girl alone," he replied, trying to sound threatening and imposing. He really didn't stand a chance against them, but maybe if Dian screamed again, someone else would come to help. Unfortunately, one of the men who had stayed with the girl had wrapped an arm around her, knife pressed to her throat. Cap swore to himself.

"What're you gonna do, boy? You gonna stop us from having our fun with her?" the other man asked, advancing on Cap. He took half a step back, trying to size them both up and look for any weaknesses they might have.

"Just run, Cap!" Dian shouted to him; a meaty hand quickly covered her mouth, and he could see a faint trail of blood appear on her neck. It only took a moment before the man was howling in pain, and Cap felt a flush of pride when he realized she had bitten him. It was enough of a distraction for him to launch himself past the two men who had been menacing him towards the one still nearest Dian.

She was screaming again, but he was mostly ignoring it as he fought and struggled, unarmed now except his fists and his feet. He elbowed the man as hard as he could and managed to get free of the crushing grip he'd been in. He thought more people had started to arrive, but he couldn't be sure; what he was sure of was that one of the men with a dagger was going for Dian. He acted before he could think, tackling her to the ground and putting himself between her and the attack. She cried out as they hit the ground hard, and before he had a chance to do anything else, he was getting hauled off her.

He thought maybe he had hit his head, because what happened next was rather surreal. There were Blades and there were yeomen, and they were calling Dian 'Her Highness' and the next thing he knew, he was being dragged off with the other men who had been attacking Dian, and he was just too stunned to struggle as Dian stood in the middle of a knot of Guardsmen, sobbing hysterically.

That girl really was more trouble than she was worth.


	5. Chapter 5

The Bastion.

He shivered, pulling his knees up to his chest. He would not cry. Just because he really _had_ ended up in the worst place in the world, he wasn't about to start acting like a little kid. If the stories were true, he wasn't even in the worst of the cells.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the cold, smelly, darkness though. He was hungry, but that wasn't a new experience for him, and he easily ignored it. There was no way to tell how much time had passed since the yeomen had dragged him in here, almost gleeful in the way they informed him he was being arrested for kidnapping the princess and trying to do harm to her.

They hadn't listened at all when he said he had been trying to protect her, and that he hadn't ever kidnapped anyone, and did they really think a kid like him would be hanging around with a bunch of big, dumb goons like the ones that _had_ been attacking the princess?

Of course, he had plenty to think about, other than the disgusting smell of vomit and sewage that permeated this place. Dian had said she was important, that her father was an important politician, so he couldn't really say that she had been lying on that count, but the fact that she was the _princess_ was more than a minor detail she had glossed over.

Which also meant her name wasn't really Dian. Princess Malinda, daughter of King Ambrose IV and the late Queen Godelva. She was one of the first names he had learned about a lifetime ago at Ironhall. At the time, she had still been the king's only legitimate child, making her heir to the throne of Chivial.

And Cap had helped her sneak out of the palace, had hidden her away for three days, had yelled at her and punched her and tried to save her life, and _she was the princess_. There wasn't any getting out of this one; there wouldn't be any offers of royal pardons upon binding. Dian-no, Princess Malinda-had landed him in a big pot of boiling water, and the only thing he could be thankful for was the fact that they hadn't been caught with the other boys.

Footsteps echoed in the stone passage, and he heard the clanking of keys as someone stopped in front of his door. It swung open, and he had to blink in the torchlight. It was one of the jailers they had passed on their way down into the bowels of the prison.

"Let's go," the man snapped irritably. Cap hesitated.

"Where are you taking me?"

"F'r questioning." His heart thumped wildly for one long moment-he knew what they did to traitors, but he hadn't thought they would consider him in that category. He was just a fifteen year old kid! But then the words sank in and he realized that he wasn't going to be given the Question; just interrogated, and probably beaten up a bit until he gave the answers these people wanted to hear.

He stood reluctantly, not really having any other choice, and allowed himself to be guided through the winding labyrinth until they stopped in a brightly lit room. There was a single chair in the center, and he was forced down into it, rope tying him into place. Three men entered the room after the jailer left, standing at the edge of shadow and light so their faces were hidden.

"State your name," the one in the middle asked. His voice cracked on his first attempt to reply, and he cleared his throat, hoping not to squeak.

"Cap."

"He is lying," the man on the left said, large glassy eyes reflecting strangely in the light. Cap swallowed hard, half-forgotten Ironhall lessons about Inquisitors floating back into his memory.

"I'm not lying. Everyone calls me Cap," he replied, trying to sound defiant, but even to him it sounded weak. The man on the right stepped forward threateningly.

"Everyone can call you scum, but that doesn't make it your name," he sneered. Cap swallowed hard again.

"State your name," the man in the middle repeated, just as monotone as before.

"W-wat Hedgebury," he finally got out, hating that these men intimidated him, hating that he was stuttering and shivering and letting himself be bullied around by a stinking Inquisitor. The Inquisitor didn't offer protest this time.

"State your age," the question-asker intoned.

"I'll be fifteen in three days," he said; the Inquisitor nodded.

"What is your relationship with the other men you were brought in with?"

"I was trying to stop them from hurting Di-the princess," he replied.

"Lie," the Inquisitor said, confident and smooth.

"I am not lying! I heard her screaming and I went to help her! They were going to hurt her if I didn't stop them!" he shouted. The man on the right took one more step forward and delivered a crashing blow to the side of Cap's head, leaving him dazed.

"The prisoner will tell the truth or face the consequences," the Inquisitor said smugly.

"I am telling the truth!" he said again; it earned him another blow to the head as stars burst in front of his eyes.

"What were your intentions with the princess?" the dry voice of the man asking questions broke through the haze.

"I was trying to protect her," he said. The coppery tang of blood filled his mouth after he was slapped hard across the face. It was obvious that they weren't going to listen to him, that the Inquisitor was only there for show; the princess obviously couldn't admit to having run away from the palace, and he had become a convenient scapegoat.

The questions continued, as did the beating, as he refused to tell them what they wanted to hear. He wouldn't lie; it wouldn't do any good in the end, anyway. He was going to die either way, and at least this way he would die with his honor in tact. It just seemed to be his lot in life to be falsely accused of crimes he hadn't committed.

The three men seemed to reach some sort of conclusion, because the jailer returned and had to half-drag him back to his cell. His head was swimming and his face hurt; he hadn't been beaten up like this in years. The cell was a welcome respite, though, and he curled on his side, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

If nothing else, he would keep his honor.

* * *

There was no way of knowing how long they left him alone before the jailer returned. His head had stopped spinning, at least, but one eye was partially swollen shut, and his jaw ached. It was hopeless trying to keep track of where he was being led, but he was eventually shown to the same room as before. There were two men waiting inside already; thankfully, it wasn't any of the ones he had already met, but seeing Durendal and Snake wasn't much of an improvement.

He was tied down to the chair again and left alone with the two Blades. Neither man spoke, and Cap felt the need to break the silence.

"Come to gloat, have you?" he did his best to sneer. Snake and Durendal exchanged a silent look.

"We came to ask you some questions," Snake said. "And we wanted to hear the answers from you, instead of through the Inquisitors."

"Were you trying to hurt the princess?" Durendal asked.

"Would you even believe me if I said no? Your stupid pet Inquisitor kept saying I was lying even though I wasn't," he retorted. "I heard her screaming. I was trying to protect her." Durendal nodded.

"That corresponds with what she said," Durendal confirmed.

"Oh, so you'll believe her, but you won't believe me? And I'm sure she told you I kidnapped her too, because princesses can't just run away, can they?" he snapped. He shied back on instinct, waiting for a blow that didn't come.

"Actually, the princess is telling a rather interesting tale of how she followed a boy out of the palace, insisting that she be allowed to come along," Snake said, sounding a bit off-hand.

"Well maybe if any of you even bothered to care about her she wouldn't have wanted to run away!" he yelled. Great; it was her fault he had ended up here, and now he was defending the idiot girl.

"Indeed," Durendal commented dryly. Cap thought there might have been a flash of amusement in his eyes, but it was probably just a trick of the light. "Be that as it may, we would like to hear your side of the story."

Cap hesitated. Were they even going to listen to what he had to say? But both men looked serious and anticipating. Well, what harm could it do to try? "I ran into her after I was trying to escape from you two. She was already halfway up the tree, and she followed me when I jumped from the wall onto a nearby rooftop. I told her to go away, and she started crying," Cap said.

"You didn't recognize her as the princess?" Snake asked; he definitely looked amused.

"No. Why should I have? She said her name was Dian and she was going to get us caught if she kept on weeping and crying like that, so I told her she could come back with me to shut her up."

"What happened after that?" Snake prompted.

"She came home with me. Cut off her hair to sell it so we could buy more food. We got in a fight, and she ran off. Next day I heard screaming, went to see what was going on, and it turned out to be her. We were outnumbered; there were four of them, and two of them had knives. She bit one of them, and it was just enough of a distraction for me to try and get them away from her. And then you lot showed up and I got arrested with those dumb blockheads and hauled off here," he said. "And then they wouldn't believe anything I said and beat me up," he added.

"We believe you," Durendal said.

"Thanks," Cap replied sarcastically. "That means so much to me. You gonna untie me now, then?"

"Not yet," Snake said. "We've got a few more questions for you, and we don't want you running off again like you did last time." Cap rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't you want to go to Ironhall when we offered?" Durendal asked.

"Why should I want to? Ironhall's not all that great."

"So you would rather stay here until you get hanged for stealing from me?" Snake asked.

"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to let yourself get stolen from," Cap retorted. Before Snake could say anything in return, Durendal interrupted.

"You made an interesting slip in my office a few days ago, you know. You started to say you wouldn't go _back_ to Ironhall," Durendal commented lightly. Cap scowled at him.

"So what? Doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, it does. See, it got me wondering. Did you know that Grand Master sends a report to the king every month informing him on the status of all the candidates?" Durendal asked.

"Is there a point to this? Because if not, I'm ready to go back to my cell, thanks," Cap replied.

"The point is that I went back and read some of those reports from the last few months. See, I had a hunch, and as Snake can tell you, I don't often ignore my hunches. There are surprisingly very few boys who leave Ironhall," Durendal said.

"I can't imagine why anyone would want to leave," Cap commented sarcastically.

"Why did you?" Snake asked. Cap glared at him.

"It's none of your damn business why I left. I did, and the rules were made quite clear to me that once you left, there wasn't any going back. So even if I _wanted_ to go back, I can't. But I don't, so it doesn't matter. Now if you'll excuse me," Cap snapped.

"Answer me this, first. Did you _want_ to leave Ironhall?" Durendal asked, and he sounded so serious and intense that Cap hesitated, stopping himself before he lied. He was tired, and he ached, and he didn't know how long it had been since he had eaten anything or had anything to drink, and he just wanted them to leave him alone. Maybe telling them the truth would do the trick.

"No," he finally answered softly, avoiding looking at either of the Blades. He looked up when the door opened, finding himself alone with Durendal.

"Am I right in presuming you are the former candidate Stalwart?" Durendal asked, pulling up a chair to face Cap. Well, they knew the truth anyway, so he might as well just keep things simple.

"Yes."

"And you were expelled from Ironhall for hazing the Brat?" Durendal asked. Cap ground his teeth and stared past Durendal, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"Yes."

"How is it that a boy can be accused of hazing not six months before he collects himself a group of street rats to take care of, then goes above and beyond anything expected of him to protect the princess?" Durendal asked.

"Why don't you ask the masters at Ironhall?" he snarled in response.

"Funny you should mention that. You know Sir Quinn was a classmate of mine? The report he sent regarding your expulsion was rather interesting reading. No one expected you to do what you did, but the evidence was damning," Durendal said. "Care to tell me your opinion on what happened?"

"I was framed. None of the masters believed me, so why should you be any different? I was puked, and that lying bastard Saxon stole my lute," he answered venomously. Durendal looked genuinely surprised.

"Your lute?"

"I told you it was stolen from me. I wasn't lying about that. I'm not a liar, even though everyone seems to think I am. Owain gave it to me before he died, and I almost got killed stealing it back from the stinking Baron Grimshank."

"And how did you not get killed?" Durendal inquired in interest.

"Sir Vincent saved me. Brought me to Ironhall, just so that slime ball Saxon could take my lute away from me again. It's _mine_ , and he had no right to take it from me," Cap said.

"You're right. He shouldn't have taken the lute away from you, even if you were being expelled. Why did all the masters think you hazed that other boy?"

"It was a setup. The kid had just turned up that day, and I heard some of the older boys saying they were going to mess around with him. Usually I wouldn't care, but these boys were worse than most. So I followed them, and tried to get them to stop, and then the masters started showing up and they scattered and Saxon grabbed on to me. The stupid kid was so scared that he said I was the one beating him up, and that cesspool didn't even let anyone else talk to me before he was throwing me out onto the moor," Cap said.

"You seem to have incredibly bad luck when it comes to being accused of things you didn't do," Durendal said lightly. Cap glowered at him. The door opened again, and Snake returned carrying a tray of food, which he placed on the table half hidden in shadows. Durendal stood and walked around behind Cap, untying him from the chair.

"We can't take you out of here right now, but we're working on it," Durendal said, gesturing towards the food. Cap hesitated only a moment before going over to the table, hungrily devouring the crust of bread and bowl of soup Snake had brought. Once he finished swallowing, he turned back to them.

"What do you mean, take me out of here? I'm a criminal," he said with a scowl.

"Seems to me as if it was just a series of misunderstandings. The princess can corroborate your story, which should be enough to get you a pardon," Durendal said.

"What, so you can arrest me for stealing right after?" he snapped in return.

"We'll call that one an advance, kid," Snake replied.

"There are a few more questions I need answered. By the time we get you out of here, I should have my answers. Come see me after you get released," Durendal said.

"Sure," Cap said in a non-committal tone.

"I'll take your word on that," Durendal replied with a half smile, then he and Snake left Cap alone.

Damn, this man knew him too well.


	6. Chapter 6

He was back in the cell. He slept for a little while, but was left alone. The wind echoed eerily through the prison, and he wasn't always sure if he was imagining the screams he heard or not. When he couldn't take the boredom any more, he tried sleeping again, but the claustrophobia had started to take hold.

The cell was just big enough to pace-four paces, turn and go three more along the other wall, four down the other side, and three back to where he started. He changed directions every ten laps to keep from getting too dizzy. This was his thirteenth time going counter-clockwise.

He almost missed the sound of footsteps over his own, but the key rattling in the lock of his door made him jump back as it swung open. Torchlight flickered in, and he blinked.

"Let's go, runt," the jailer grunted, ushering Cap out of the cell. His arms weren't bound like usual, and he wasn't manhandled forward. It took longer than usual, and when they stopped, he had to blink away the spots from the sunlight.

"What...?" he asked in confusion. This had to be some sort of joke.

"Go on, before someone changes their mind," the jailer advised. Cap didn't hesitate any longer, and he was off at a run. He had to slow down after a little while, stomache aching with hunger and mouth parched. He looked up at the sun, judging the time; late afternoon. It would be dark by the time he made it back to the city. He sighed, and set his pace accordingly.

The west gate was left open all evening, and he slipped in with a group of others who were making their way into the city late. He headed across the city, towards the river and the last place he had called home. The moon was just starting to rise, a bare sliver offering almost no light; if it was that close to being new, he'd spent his birthday in the Bastion.

The warehouse was empty when he got inside. They'd probably had to move on a few days ago, to judge by things. Raz and Crumbs would have taken charge when Cap hadn't returned, and Crumbs was smart enough to know never to stay in one place too long. It was a shame, really; he was hungry, and could have used the companionship.

No matter, he would go look for them in the morning, and if he couldn't find them, then... Then what? He had been doing a good deal of thinking during his time in the Bastion. He hated living on the streets like this, hated stealing from people and tricking them out of their food and money. He hated being a nobody, except to the eight boys who looked up to him.

It had felt good to help Dian. Princess Malinda. Whoever she was. He still couldn't think of her as being anything other than the tomboyish Dian who had shoved him to the ground more times than he cared to remember. She had a sharp tongue and a short temper and was nothing like he imagined a princess should be. She was sad and lonely, too, and even though she had just wanted attention, she had genuinely cared about helping them when she realized how hard their life was on the streets.

He knew what it meant to be a Blade, still remember the absolute awe he had when Vincent offered him the chance to go to Ironhall and become one himself. He remembered sitting in class with the other candidates, learning about famous Blades and battles, court manners and the Royal Family, learning how to fence and how to fight. He had been _happy_ at Ironhall, even if sometimes he had to muck stalls and learn how to dance with Badger as his partner.

He liked being Cap, but he loved being Stalwart. With that thought in his head, he fell asleep.

* * *

He stole an apple in the morning, too hungry to feel guilty about it, and went on a search for the other boys. He had come to a decision during the night and when he had cleaned himself up that morning. He was going to see what Durendal had to say to him, and he didn't really dare hope to believe that the man would find him a way back to Ironhall like it had sounded, but he wasn't going to stay on the streets any more. If the Blades didn't want him, he would find a job somewhere else. He just had to say goodbye, first.

The sun was high in the sky when he gave up his search. Wherever Raz and Crumbs had taken the others, they were well-hidden. He hoped they were safe, and with one last mournful sweep of a favorite market of theirs, he headed towards the palace.

He ignored the looks he was getting, well aware of his bruised face and tattered, stinking clothes. He stopped only once to ask a Blade directions to Durendal's office. The door was half-open, and he knocked on it hesitantly.

"Come in," he heard Durendal call; he stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him. Durendal looked up from what he was doing, not looking overly surprised. "Have a seat," he gestured toward the chair. Cap sat on the very edge.

"You said to come see you after they let me go. I got back late last night, and I was trying to find my friends this morning," he felt the need to explain.

"Did you find them?" Durendal asked.

"No."

"Ah. I had the chance to speak with Quinn and Vincent while you were still in the Bastion. Your story stands up rather well with them. And I spoke with the king this morning," Durendal said, leaning back casually in his chair.

"The king?" He silently cursed his voice for squeaking. How embarrassing!

"Yes. He was quite impressed to hear how a fifteen year old boy took on four men by himself in order to protect his daughter. _Quite_ impressed," Durendal stressed.

"You talked to the king about me?" Cap asked in disbelief, voice squeaking again.

"Yes, I did. And I explained to him the circumstances regarding your expulsion from Ironhall. He seemed very perturbed by the fact that Sir Saxon laid claim to your private property. He wants to offer you a reward, you know," Durendal said, still as calm as ever. Cap couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I didn't do anything special. Not really. Not anything any decent person wouldn't do," he replied.

"I thought perhaps you might see it that way, so I made a suggestion to his majesty regarding an appropriate reward for you. Sir Snake will be going to Ironhall in the morning to deliver a letter to Sir Saxon, relieving him of his duties as Grand Master of the Order," Durendal said, shifting forward in his seat. There was a definite twinkle in his eyes. "Tell me, Candidate Stalwart, are you ready to return home to Ironhall?"

All he could do was stare open-mouthed at Durendal; at least this time his mouth wasn't full of food, like it had been with Vincent. This couldn't be real, Durendal didn't really just make this offer, but he said he'd spoken with the king, and maybe, just maybe... A grin broke out on his face, stretching the bruises painfully, but he ignored that.

"Yes, sir!" Stalwart replied.


	7. Epilogue

Snake walked into his office at the headquarters of the Old Blades, officially known as the Court of Conjury. It had been a long day, spent mostly going through the facts of the Waterby fiasco with a group of Inquisitors. He hated dealing with them; you could never lie to them, but they could lie all they wanted to you. And they way they stared always gave him the spooks.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, glad at least that he was unbound and could savor fine alcohol when he so desired. Sitting down in his plush leather chair, he noticed a piece of parchment underneath a coin purse. He picked up the note, and couldn't help but smile as he read what it said.

 _Snake,_

 _Here's the money I owed you._

 _-"Cap"_

He went upstairs to the small room occupied by Stalwart, youngest of the Old Blades. He knew the boy had gotten back today, after a week's forced confinement in the country while he was slowly changing back after the conjury turning him into a replica of the king. He knocked on the door as he opened it to see the young man lying on his back, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling.

"You know, you never did explain how you ended up with the name 'Cap', brother," Snake said. Stalwart looked over at him, smiling.

"There's someone I want you to meet first, and then I'll explain," Stalwart replied, on his feet in an instant. He thundered down the stairs, and Snake followed after him, curious. "I saw him on my way back into the city," Stalwart explained, leading them through the city until they reached a marketplace. "There," he pointed, indicating a young boy who couldn't be older than eleven or twelve, grabbing an apple from a stand and darting into an alley. Stalwart led them after the boy.

The boy hadn't gone far, and Snake watched as he perched on a garbage bin, eating the apple like it was the finest of delicacies. He was small and dirty, and could have been the same boy who had conned Snake himself three years ago except for the darker hair. He hung back to watch what Stalwart would do.

"Hey, Scoot," the young Blade greeted casually. The boy with the apple looked up in shock, eyes widening first in shock, then recognition.

"Cap!" the boy greeted cheerfully, throwing himself into a hug. Stalwart was smiling. "What happened to you, Cap? You just vanished! Raz and Crumbs moved us after two days an' we all thought you got caught or died or somethin', but me, I thought you were still alive an' maybe you were just waitin' to come back, and here you are! You gonna come back with us? Just, Raz and Crumbs and Monty and most of the others are gone these days, and it's just me and Twitch and Sparks," Scoot rambled quickly.

"No, Scoot, I'm not here to come back. Hey, you still playing Blades and Bad Guys?" Stalwart asked the little boy. Snake raised an eyebrow in amusement, and Stalwart flashed him a grin.

"Of course! 'Cept now we can play at Blades and Monsters!" Scoot replied delightedly.

"You still pick Blades, right?" Stalwart asked. Scoot nodded with great enthusiasm, dirty hair flopping down into his eyes. "I want you to meet a friend of mine, Scoot. This is Sir Snake. He's a real, live Blade," Stalwart said, leading the boy over to Snake. Scoot looked up at him with big, brown eyes, mouth open wide in amazement.

"Are you really a Blade?" Scoot asked him. Snake nodded as he bent down to be on level with the boy.

"I am. And you know what my job is?" Scoot shook his head. "I'm the one who gets to kill all the monsters." The little boy's eyes widened further, and it was almost comical.

"Hey Scoot, how'd you like to go to Ironhall and become a Blade too?" Stalwart asked. Scoot turned to look at his former friend.

"Really?" he asked softly, unable to believe what was being said.

"Really. That's where I went after I left you guys. Snake or one of our other friends can bring you there, if you want to go," Stalwart explained.

"Yes!" Scoot shouted gleefully. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! You're the best ever, Cap! You really are!" Stalwart was grinning, and it was infectious.

"Come on, then. We'll take you back with us and then you can head for Ironhall tomorrow," Stalwart said. Scoot managed to dampen his enthusiasm for just one moment.

"Lemme just go tell the others I'm going?" he asked. Stalwart nodded.

"We'll be waiting here for you. Hurry," he urged, but Scoot was already darting down the alley. Stalwart turned back to Snake.

"They called me Captain because I was in charge," he explained. "They wanted to call me Leader, but at the time, I took offense," he added, with a wry smile.

"Well, kid, give it a few years, and you may just be going by that name yet," Snake replied, pleased to see how much Stalwart had grown up since he had been nothing more than another nameless kid living on the streets of Grandon.

"You can bet on it," Stalwart replied with a grin.

 **The end.**


End file.
